[Lyra 03] - Shadow Magic

by Patricia C. Wrede - (ebook by Undead)

  Alethia looked at him contemptuously. “Not at all,” she said freezingly. “And I like you less than before. Furthermore, I doubt if your instructions include starving me to death. I am ravenous!” She started at another burst of laughter, then had to stifle a scream as the Lithmern leader bowed mockingly and walked away. For as he bent she saw clearly into the dark space between the hat brim and the cloak. There was nothing there, only shadows.

  Apparently her final comment had made some impression, for presently one of the men brought Alethia a piece of hard bread. She thought that he looked nicer than the others; he seemed younger, barely thirty, and he did not have any of the scars that the rest of the party seemed to flaunt. When she looked at his eyes, however, Alethia felt chilled. They were brown and cold, and remote as the icy blue peaks of the Kathkari mountains, as though their owner roamed in other fields. She did not try to speak to him.

  Eating with her hands tied was awkward, but she managed. As she ate, Alethia considered carefully the little she had learned. That her kidnappers were Lithmern she did not doubt. Though she had never seen one of the raiders, she was familiar with the descriptions that filtered constantly back to Brenn, and these men fit. She was positive that the Lithmern leader had not told her the real purpose behind her kidnapping, but no likely alternatives occurred to her. Alethia abandoned that line of thought and turned her attention to the cords binding her hands and feet.

  The awkward movements of eating gave her an excuse to study the knots from several angles without arousing suspicion. Well before she had finished the bread, Alethia had decided that she could untie her hands by using her teeth. Unfortunately the maneuver would occupy no little time, and she was constantly watched by one or another of the men. Alethia concluded that she must wait for a more suitable opportunity, and concentrated on eating.

  She finished her scanty meal and leaned back against the tree. The forest was a place men shunned and she had never before been within it, though she had lived her whole life in its shadow. It was surprisingly pleasant to lie listening to the birds as they began their morning chorus. She felt relaxed; quite relaxed, in fact. Her eyes closed, and she slept.

  Alethia was awakened abruptly by the sound of harsh cries. Her eyes flew open. Green daylight poured through the branches of the trees, making deep shadows on the forest floor. The fire was out, and it was nearly noon. All of the Lithmern raiders except the captain were scattered on the floor of the clearing, sleeping so soundly that they might have been drugged. Even the horses stood with their heads down.

  The Lithmern leader was stumbling painfully from one man to another, shouting and shaking them in a futile attempt to arouse them. Eventually, he moved in her direction, and Alethia closed her eyes and tried to breathe more slowly. She heard his footsteps come closer and stop by her side. He was apparently satisfied, for after a moment she heard him walk away. When she cautiously raised her eyelids a crack, he had gone back to his men. Eventually, he gave up and reeled towards the horses, where he disappeared from view.

  Hardly daring to believe her luck, Alethia raised her bound hands to her mouth, keeping careful watch for the vanished leader. It was slow work, and every minute she expected to see the captain coming back. Finally, the stubborn knots gave. With her hands free it took only a few moments more to untie her ankles, and Alethia tried to rise.

  Her stiff legs would not hold her the first time she tried. By the time she gained her feet, Alethia was nearly wild with the thought that the man would return just in time to prevent her escape. As she limped past a sleeping guard at the edge of the clearing, she paused to slip his sword from its sheath, which had fortunately fallen beside and not under the man. She also plucked his dagger from his belt and thrust it through her sash. Using the sword as a cane, she started slowly off into the forest.

  After some distance, walking seemed easier and she began to make better time. She had no idea which direction she was going; her one thought was to get as much distance between herself and the Lithmern as she possibly could before the inevitable pursuit began. Whatever had put her captors to sleep, she could not be sure that it would last much longer.

  Alethia walked for nearly an hour. Several times the ruffled lace trimming the sleeves of her ball gown caught in bushes, and she wasted precious moments tearing free. Finally she cut the remaining fragments off with the dagger and threw them away. She was so intent on making progress that she did not see the clearing until she was almost on top of it. In the middle of the open area a man in green and blue sat before a fire with his back to her.

  Alethia stopped abruptly, but the man had heard her, and he turned. At the sight of her, his eyes widened in recognition. “Alethia of Brenn! How came you to the Wyrwood, and in such a state?” She saw with relief that it was the minstrel, Tamsin, who had passed through Brenn but a few days previously and sung at her birth eve party.

  “Lithmern,” she said concisely. Feeling that a further explanation was called for, she added, “I was kidnapped.”

  “I take it you have escaped and pursuit is imminent?” the minstrel said calmly, rising from his seat.

  “The Lithmern fell asleep; it was very strange. As soon as their leader finds a way to wake them, they will follow me.”

  Tamsin’s eyebrows climbed towards his hairline, but he kept a credible composure. “You need not walk, my lady; Starbrow and I are at your service,” he said, sounding like a character out of one of his own romances. He rose and kicked some dirt over the fire. “Pity about lunch, but it cannot be helped. We must make do with cold fare.”

  “Starbrow?”

  “My horse.” Tamsin whistled, and a moment later a huge chestnut with a white star on his forehead came trotting into the clearing. Tamsin rubbed the horse’s ears, and the animal snorted contentedly.

  “A noble animal, and well-trained,” Alethia observed politely, feeling, absurdly, as if she too had fallen into the minstrel’s romance.

  “Thank you, my lady. If you would mount, we had best be on our way.” He bowed extravagantly and lifted her onto the saddle, then sprang lightly up behind. With merely a touch the great horse was off, moving surely through the trees.

  Alethia found the sword she carried a little awkward, and she was quite willing to give it up when Tamsin commented mildly, “I should suggest that for now we place that useful implement in one of my bags; it would be most awkward to decapitate our mount at the beginning of the journey.”

  Tamsin accepted the sword and stowed it in one of the saddlebags; a neat trick while riding. From the same bag he produced cold meat and bread, part of which he handed forward to her. Alethia fell to with a will. When she finished, the minstrel passed her a water bottle and asked, “Now, we are under way and we have lunched, in a fashion. If only to pass the time and satisfy a story-teller’s curiosity, will you not tell me how you came to be in such distress?”

  Despite her weariness, Alethia told in short, rapid sentences the story of her kidnapping and escape. As she spoke, the minstrel’s face grew grave, and he urged Starbrow to greater speed. When she finished, he was silent for a little, then spoke. “Your captors must indeed have had a pressing need to venture here; these woods do not welcome such creatures as they. And to travel so quickly… It will take us until midday tomorrow to reach Brenn, even if we travel most of the night.”

  Alethia’s eyes widened. “But we only left Brenn last night! I am sure of it. How could they possibly travel so fast?” But the minstrel had no answer, and they rode on in silence.

  The Wyrwood was lovely by daylight; green shadows dappled the ground and it was pleasantly cool. From time to time, Alethia heard rustling noises as some small creature, disturbed by Starbrow’s passage, scampered off to safety elsewhere.

  “I thought the Wyrwood was a grim and dangerous place,” Alethia said after a time. “It doesn’t seem nearly as unpleasant as I have been told.”

  “Do not be deceived, Lady,” Tamsin answered dramatically. “The inhabitants of the
se woods keep some areas clear of deadly things, but most of the forest is as harsh as you have heard.”

  “Inhabitants?” Alethia said. “Outlaws and thieves, you mean.”

  “Those to whom this forest belongs,” Tamsin corrected her. “They do not like visitors, but they will sometimes allow travelers to pass through the places they do not hold for their own. But I would not care to guess which is more dangerous: to walk among the beasts or to go uninvited into the places that are protected. It is a narrow path that travelers in these woods must walk.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” Alethia asked pointedly.

  “Minstrels are an exception to many rules, Lady.”

  Alethia laughed and shook her head. “Who are these people, that make such convenient exceptions?”

  “Say, rather, beings, for they are not men,” the minstrel replied. “They are the Wyrds, and they are of the older days of Alkyra, when the region was just being settled and magic walked the lands freely.”

  “You talk as though you believe the stories you tell,” Alethia laughed.

  “They are no more stories than the other “fey folk” of Lyra,” Tamsin said. “The Wyrds were part of Alkyra from the very first, when Kirel was crowned. They are small in stature, but strong in magic. They gave Kirel the Shield of Law at his coronation. Though they have held apart from men for so long, their power at least remains fresh in the minds of men. No one is unaware of the dangers of these woods. The very name of the forest is proof of that.”

  “You’ve met them?” Alethia teased.

  “They are real,” Tamsin said. “But I have not met them. Few men knew them even in the days when Kirel and his line ruled Alkyra; none have seen them since Eirith fell.”

  “If no one has seen them for two hundred and fifty years, how can you be so certain they ever really existed?”

  “Can you pass through their forest and doubt it?” Tamsin said. “I think you have run afoul of their magic ere now, when you left your captors sleeping.”

  Alethia was silent for a moment. She could not deny that something had put the Lithmern to sleep, but she was not going to attribute it to magic simply because no other explanation presented itself.

  “What did you mean by ‘other fey folk’?” she said finally, curious in spite of herself.

  “The peoples of Lyra who have magic in their blood and bones. They are the Wyrds, the mountain-dwelling Shee, and the sea-people, the Neira. The Shee are powerful and long-lived, wise in magic and very rich. They live in the Kathkari Mountains; the original settlers of Alkyra found their cities there, and made them friends.”

  “I know the tale—the Shee were supposed to have helped found Alkyra,” Alethia said. “But I thought they were another myth, like the firebird that fed Darneel when she was imprisoned on the mountaintop.”

  “The Shee are no more myth than the Wyrds,” Tamsin said firmly. “They gave the Staff of Order to Kirel as a coronation gift. In return, he promised that no men would ever come to the Kathkari to settle.”

  “Why would anyone want to? The Kathkari Mountains are even more treacherous than the Wyrwood!”

  “Some think the Shee themselves are part of the reason why. They drifted away from the other peoples of Alkyra during the ages of prosperity, and all contact with them was lost when the last of Kirel’s line died in the fall of Eirith. But they are a proud people, and perhaps they prefer it that way.”

  Alethia nodded absently. “Are we near the river?” she asked abruptly.

  “No,” Tamsin replied, puzzled. “We are half a day’s ride north of it, perhaps more. Why?”

  “I have never seen mist linger so late in the day, except near water,” Alethia said. She pointed at a dense grey fog which was coiling about Starbrow’s hooves.

  Tamsin sucked in his breath. “I fear this is no natural mist, but perhaps we can yet escape it. Come Starbrow! Show your paces!”

  The great chestnut leapt forward, but his burst of speed was brief. In a short time the fog had risen up around the travelers, and they were forced to slow to a crawl to avoid running into trees. Alethia, looking forward, could barely make out Starbrow’s ears, so dense was the mist. It was quiet, too; a dead quiet, the quiet of snow falling straight down and muffling the noise of the world, but not so friendly. The birds and smaller animals of the forest no longer sang and rustled the leaves as the travelers passed. Everything seemed to be hiding away in the grey mist.

  Alethia felt detached. The world receded, melting into the shifting grey clouds around her, muffled in a great grey blanket. She felt herself falling, but even that was far away, outside of the place where she herself was. Then, small and clear, like a picture at the bottom of a deep glass, she saw the Lithmern leader, bending in concentration over a strange symbol wrought in iron, and murmuring unfamiliar words under his breath.

  Just for an instant the sight held; then she recoiled and the vision passed. As it faded, she brushed the edge of something dark and greedy, and knew that it was she it sought. She started in fright, and the physical movement brought her back to herself. Alethia drew a deep breath, shuddered, and opened her eyes to see Tamsin’s concerned face bending over her.

  “Here, drink,” he said, holding the water bottle out to her. Gratefully she accepted. After a few swallows, she felt more like herself. Tamsin watched her carefully as she drank, and reached for the bottle as soon as she finished. The grey fog was as thick as ever; Tamsin had wound Starbrow’s rein about his arm to avoid losing the animal. Alethia looked at him inquiringly.

  “You slipped off of Starbrow so quietly I almost lost you, and I could not wake you,” the minstrel said, answering her unspoken question. “What happened?”

  “I am not sure,” Alethia replied. “Everything was so far away and quiet. Then I saw that Lithmern with the shadow-face, and something was looking for me…” Her voice trailed off, and she shivered. “I don’t know. I do not understand at all,” she said in a strained voice.

  Tamsin was watching her with wonder. “Lady of Brenn, I do not know what else you are, but that you are more than you seem I am sure. I think I begin to see why these Lithmern are so anxious to capture you,” he said. “However, if they are looking for you as you say, we had better continue, and quickly.” He helped Alethia rise and once more assisted her in mounting.

  As Tamsin swung onto the horse behind her, Alethia said, “You seem remarkably unshaken by these strange happenings.”

  “Magic and music are brother and sister,” he replied as Starbrow picked his way through the fog. “The bard’s craft has always been half magic; in times past minstrels and magicians were often one and the same. Perhaps it is because we must sing so frequently of the old days and the magic of them that we do not fear strangeness as do other men.”

  Alethia started to reply, then stopped abruptly as the dense fog suddenly dissolved. Starbrow stopped and tossed his head. Tamsin cursed under his breath. They stood at the center of a circle of grinning Lithmern with drawn swords. Facing them, his whole bearing one of triumph, stood the cloaked leader. “Ah, two fish instead of one! I am indebted to you, mistress Alethia.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  As Alethia stared at the Lithmern circle in dismay, she felt Tamsin’s warning hand on her arm. She stifled the angry response that rose automatically to her lips; instead, she slipped her hand under her sash to the dagger she had taken from the sleeping Lithmern. The touch of the weapon was reassuring. She felt Tamsin shift in the saddle behind her, and heard him say mildly, “Two fish can sometimes escape a net that in times past held many more.”

  “I think not, minstrel. We have you fast,” the captain replied smugly.

  Burning at the satisfaction in his voice, Alethia leaned forward on Starbrow’s neck and said sweetly, “Nonetheless, perhaps we two together may do better than myself alone, captain. I hope your men had a nice nap? They seemed so tired when I left them.” She smiled to herself a little wickedly at the chagrin on the dark faces, and heard a l
ow chuckle from Tamsin. Then she felt him stiffen as the Lithmern circle closed in around them.

  Alethia leaned forward and pulled her dagger free. She heard steel ring as Tamsin’s sword came out of its sheath, but her attention was concentrated on the grinning circle tightening around them. So intent was she that she almost missed seeing the captain draw out the twisted piece of iron she had seen or dreamt earlier.

  The Lithmern leader raised his hands with a commanding gesture and hissed four words. The iron piece he held aloft began to glow with a dull red light. As it did, a heavy darkness clamped itself over Alethia, and she felt Tamsin sway in the saddle behind her. Dimly she watched the Lithmern walking toward them, their captain standing behind with the iron talisman blazing dark fire in his gloved hands. Desperately, Alethia raised one leaden arm. With the last of her strength, she threw her dagger blindly in the direction of the Lithmern captain.

  The missile struck in the center of the captain’s chest, just below the upraised arms. There was a puff of black smoke from the neck of his cloak, and he made a brief clutching motion before he collapsed to the ground. The flame of the talisman died as it fell from the limp gloves, and suddenly Alethia and Tamsin could see clearly again.

  The remaining Lithmern fled in terror, and for a moment Alethia thought that they had seen their leader’s collapse. Then she saw one of the running warriors fall, a slender wooden shaft sprouting from his back. One of the men tried to reach the horses, but the frightened animals would not allow him to mount. Another arrow found him, and he, too, fell.

  More arrows came singing out of the trees around them, and suddenly the clearing was empty of Lithmern, except for four silent forms which had not reacted quickly enough. In another instant Starbrow was surrounded once more, this time by the archers who were pursuing the fleeing Lithmern.

  They were only about four and a half feet high; the tallest would barely have reached Alethia’s shoulder. Their eyes were bright in small, delicate-boned faces that seemed vaguely cat-like. They wore tunics of dark green, loosely belted at the waist. Where arms and legs emerged from the coarse material, they were covered by a dark brown fur, which grew more thinly on face and hands and longer and thicker over their heads. From this mane emerged two ears, shaped like a fox’s but with inch-long tufts of hair at their tips. Alethia’s eyes widened. Behind her she heard Tamsin’s low whistle. “Wyrds!” he breathed in awe.